When The Moon Hits Your Eye
by Ruffluv
Summary: Remember the pizza guy who delivers to a heartbroken Bella and Jacob in NM? No? Watching the abs? Still drying your eyes from Edward's departure? Watch again- you get a glimpse of him! Taking this very minor character and making him my own, here's an AU spin on the second part of the saga. I split up Bedward! May God forgive me! Order Edward for you! Tuck in! Hope you're hungry!


**Title: **When the Moon hits your eye...

**Pairing: **Bella/minor character

**Rating: **M (and not just for Mmm)

**Genre: **Romance, comedy

**Word count: **2664

**Summary: **Remember the pizza guy who delivers to a heartbroken Bella and Jacob in NM? No-Watching the abs? Still drying your eyes? Watch again-you get a glimpse of him! Taking this very minor character and making him my own, here's an AU, non-canon spin on the second part of the saga. I split up Bedward! May God forgive me! Tuck in! Hope you're hungry!

**Warnings: **I am not accountable for any injuries that may be acquired through attempting to play "Spoons" at home...

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Twilight or any Pizza chains and I don't condone sexual favors in return for food.

* * *

**When the moon hits your eye…**

**The base**

After Jake unknowingly agreed to indulge my new adrenaline addiction, we'd been working on the old bike I found, spending a lot of time together. He was filing that hole in my chest left by Edward, but right now, in his garage, there was one beginning to form in my belly, so we'd ordered some pizza. _Cette Luna _was a fabulous restaurant here in Forks. It had the best sourdough in town, and they also delivered; mushrooms for me, two "Mighty meats" for him, the "Jake special". Since his growth spurt, he ate like a dog . It was going to good use though: the guy was ripped. I felt like I was best friends with a gladiator from that goofy TV show or something. Too bad that wasn't to my personal tastes.

The knock on the red garage door alerted me to the fact the food had arrived.

"Pizza dude!" Jake hollered.

I left Jake with the bike and went to grab the food and pay; a normal, everyday thing. There was, however, nothing normal or everyday about the guy who was holding the box. His long hair was slick, like he'd been up to no good, not slogging it in a kitchen.

He had no pizza face to match the goods he bore; his was flawless. He had faint sideburns that went really far down his face. He wore one earring, and was wearing a fitted, white T-shirt, with the restaurant logo on. What an advertisement he was for them! Fresh and hot indeed! I idly wondered if he had an extra one Jacob could borrow, since he didn't seem to own any lately.

Handing over the money, I took a peek inside the top cardboard box that he was holding, and tossed it to Jacob, who caught it without looking—Show-off. I turned back and beamed up at the delicious delivery boy.

"Mine's the veggie one," I told him.

He mirrored my smile and as our hands met passing over the box, I felt a fuzzy tingle. Would I have to pay extra for that?

"Ah," he said. "Are you vegetarian or did you buy into all that junk on the menu about that being a healthier option? Couldn't you afford to treat yourself? His eyes went up and down my body, appreciatively.

I could discern Jake in my field of vision, still fiddling with parts, but clearly paying attention to the exchange.

"I-I just like salad stuff." I answered

"For your Salad days."

_Funny, fine and he quoted Shakespeare? Oh, Cupid was a knavish lad!_

"Shame." he added. "Maybe next time try the big sausage?" With that, he cheekily blinked one eye at me and sped off in his car. What a winker!

**Pan the dough**

"But it's steak night!" Charlie whined.

"Dad, you get steak every night there anyways." I was trying to convince him to try somewhere new for a change, instead of the diner.

"How about Italiano?" I suggested, thinking back to my recent run-in with Cette Luna's answer to, well, Edward. Or as close as I wasn't going to get, looks wise. In terms of personality, he was closer to Jake, maybe cockier, but the more I considered that, the more I thought it could be what I needed—fun.

"They even do steak. C'mon Dad"

"What, that place in town? Oh, okay" He held his hands up in surrender.

I inwardly celebrated: one round to me!

We took a table inside Cette Luna, and ordered. beer. I raised my glass to take a drink of Coke, then spilled it all over myself: he was here! HHH-His Holy Hotness waited tables too! In fact, he was heading towards us with two plates! He'd noticed me and my clumsiness—what great second impression—and was smiling at me while shaking his head slightly. He looked as cool as a cucumber in his uniform of the same white T shirt he was in the first time I met him, a little towel hanging from his trouser pocket. Had I requested a side of swagger?

He seemed less cool, though when he reached the table though, avoiding eye contact with those golden browns of his while emptying his hands. He didn't make eye contact with me and I missed those golden browns, the shade that of the elusive perfect crust. Was he nervous? Or disinterested?

He whipped out his mini towel and made for jumper, when Charlie coughed loudly, distracting his attention. Charlie gave him what I could only describe as the "Dad look": a universal language protective fathers used to warn off horny young "yahoos", as he called them, from his daughter. The message translated and this particular yahoo left me to run to the bathrooms out back to clean myself up.

I was passing the bar on my return, when I was stopped by a hand I recognized, a hand that had served me food twice now. The hand gave me a note with the name "Ricky" and a telephone number. So, His Holy Hotness had a name and a number—and now I had them too. Nice, but why did I need to know this? Why wouldn't I want to?

"I'm hoping I'll see you at the New Moon pub next door. Tomorrow? He was as endearing when he was sheepish. The eyes that attached to the hand bore into mine, pleadingly. I felt craved. Did he even realize I was under drinking age? I didn't care-I'm going, I told myself.

**Topping the pizza**

I did make the Half Moon for our first date. Charlie ended up working late, due to some sort of animal attacks in the area—strange. Ricky met me outside the bar and escorted me in, saving me from having to feeling more self-conscious than I already did. We mostly dealt with the formalities. He wondered what was going on with Jake and I told him we were just friends. I told him about Edward leaving me in the summer. He said he must be "insane in the membrane" and threatened to break him if he ever saw him. I didn't tell him that would probably be difficult with the whole skin of stone issue: I figured that was second date stuff...

When the second date at the coffee house rolled around, we were too busy getting to know each other more to discuss mythological creatures that I'd learned the hard way weren't so mythical after all. Why scare him away with what he'd think was crazy talk? I'd taken quite a shine to him. It was interesting to be around someone that had my back, without being too possessive or controlling. To have someone I believed I was not on a level with, only in the human sense, want me so much. It was like my relationship with Jacob, but with the all-important spark, the pull, like I'd felt to Edward. I felt a little guilty that I hadn't been able to find that with Jacob, but Ricky brought me back to life. I was alive again, not just somewhat repaired and existing. That night, outside the cafe, as traffic sped by, he kissed me. It was delicious, warm and soft. We could relax into it without worrying or holding back. It was different-good different. I would definitely be going for second helpings! And the rest!

We continued to date on the sly. Charlie was becoming suspicious, but I think the idea of approaching me about it daunted him as much as it did me, and he was caught between being happy to see me more like my old self again and concerned I was creeping around with someone I shouldn't be. I ordered a lot of pizza over the next few weeks to see Ricky when he was working. No other type of take-out got a look in at the Swan residence. Mexican: As if! Seafood? Yeah, right! A sub sandwich? Fuck off!

"Binging again, Bella?" Jess would say over the phone when I would tell her I needed to go get the door. "Maybe you should try the reduced fat cheese?" She'd taken to calling me Calorie Mallory. Wow, she could rhyme! True, a couple of pounds had crept on, but Ricky didn't seem to mind. He said he loved to see me eat, that I looked like I was really enjoying my food and that food and sex went hand in hand... Maybe he was a feeder! I saw this sick film once; where this man kept a big woman on a bed and forced her eat to get his kicks… maybe it couldn't hurt to look into a gym membership… So yeah, Ricky mentioned how he loved my curves a lot.

One Tuesday night, he took me to his studio flat and got more acquainted with my curves. He had made the clothing adjustments he wanted. My striped Lucky Henley T-Shirt was on the floor. I'd worn that as it seemed popular: everyone was always asking where I got it.

"Your boobs look great in that top" Ricky had stated. "Great stand up-tits" he reckoned I had, whatever that meant. He told me I had the best tits ever and he would know: he's seen a lot of rack-he grills for a living! My tits were currently standing up in my black bra with a crest in the middle of it, in his hands. He was gently kneading them.

"I fucking love my job!"

I didn't know if he was referring to how it brought him to me, or to my newly acquired jelly, which was helped along by his pizza trips. Either way, he was making me melt like mozzarella with his touch and his words, prepping me like a meticulous chef does his dish of the day. The temperature was rising. He was bringing me to the boil and it wasn't a slow burn. I simmered under the brushes of his fingers. I wanted to do the same for him.

"I want to touch you." I let him know.

"Bella, you are touching me."

"Here." I said, running my hand over his the huge bulge in his jeans.

"You wanna toss the salad? He smirked. "Or the pizza dough, in this case?"

"Shut. Up!" I cracked up laughing.

"Well, I wanna touch you more," he turned serious, rubbing the crotch of my jeans now.

"I don't think so. I wanna touch you the most!" We must have sounded like such kids. I guess we were, really. But we were old enough to know what we wanted.

"Let's play a game then," he offered.

'Cause that'd make us seem much more grown up.

"Can we play the game that consenting adults play when they love each other?" Oops, the L-word slipped out.

Serious Ricky said, "I do. Love you."

"I love you."

"Now, let's play spoons! He was back to childish Ricky. "Winner gets what they want: to get the loser off first!" Children didn't talk like that.

"I can't believe you've never played 'Spoons'"! Ricky laid a single spoon on the floor between us and then dealt out a pack of cards evenly.

"Oh, I know, I haven't lived," I uttered sarcastically.

"You can't bring that attitude to spoons." He reminded me of Emmett when he acted that way: playful, competitive. This in turn, reminded me of Edward.

"Ok," he began telling me the instructions, taking me out of my daze.

"Put all your pairs down. Then we take cards from each other without looking, and carry on discarding pairs down whenever we get one."

"So how do you win?"

"Well, when you put you last cards down, you yell 'Spoons!' and dive for the spoon."

"But there's only two of us," I thought this game might be better with a larger group and If I was any sort of competition; all I could focus on was him, all flushed and eager and what was going to happen at the end of what would be a short game. I was getting worked up over a game involving cutlery!

"Well then I guess you'll have to be fast!"

Ricky was very fast: I had no chance. He chose to claim his wet prize on the sheets of his bed.

"Spread," he tapped my legs.

I doubted that he spoke in that voice when telling someone to spread the fresh tomato sauce.

He inspected me, like I was something he had in the oven. He took me in with all five senses, like I was the best feast he'd ever had. He touched me as he'd been wishing to, but he also used his tongue, tasting me. He heard my "Mmmmm" sounds, paying attention to them, to me. He saw how much moisture he brought out of me and he breathed deeply, smelled me—savoring me.

After rolling on a condom, he got on top of me, slowly bringing his thick, fat cock to sit inside me. Did somebody order a 12 inch? Well, it was at least nine…It was impaling me.

Once he found the perfect position, picking up speed, the experience picked up too. I was happy it was him. It sort of felt…like home. He had filled my tummy many a time and now he was filling me up this way.

That's how I ended up losing "Spoons" in Forks…but gaining a long orgasm. Never mind pizza: top that!

Afterwards, we ate a slice or two in bed. Well, it was two for Tuesday!

**Baking the pizza**

Many more pizzas and a lot of sex into the future, we were about to dig in to a plain cheese and tomato on what had been a manic Monday.

"I think there's something in here," Ricky shouted from the kitchen.

"Oh, Rick, not the dick in a box thing again!" I remembered when we tried that porn star move, with Rocky using a glory hole cut out of the middle.

"There's a dick in my pizza!" I'd said in mock horror. Good times. Almost as crazy as the day he introduced me to his rolling pin…

"No, maybe you should take a look."

I stalked over to the kitchen: I was hungry and a girl's gotta eat! I opened the box wider, ready to dismiss what was probably nothing but OCD on Ricky's part, and start separating myself a slice.

There, on top of the piece I homed in on, was the prettiest ring I ever saw.

That's how Ricky proposed. Hey, it was romantic: we went classic with the margarita! There was no poking of fingers or lifting of edges, metaphorically speaking. I didn't have to check with myself: I was ready.

**On the side**

Two years later, we were married with one kid and plans for more. We even had a dog, which we named after Jake. And every week, we had a pizza night. Sometimes, we put Seth to bed, and then ate ours in bed after some brilliant sex—sometimes during. I'm a busy mother!

Ricky was no longer working for Cette Luna, but we visited, and we role-played: he'd be Ricky the pizza guy again and serve me some of his special "sauce" and I gave him a" tip"…

Often, his work now took him away from home and we missed each other hopelessly when he was gone, but I would speak to him on the phone and tell him to imagine he was sitting on the couch eating pizza with me or something, to make us both feel better. Nothing worth having is easy, but we'd found the perfect balance and I knew he'd never abandon me. I never thought about Edward any more—ever. If Jacob had helped fill the hole in my chest, then Ricky had sealed it over for good with the many moons, all the pizzas, a ring… so many small circles. And one big one: Life.


End file.
